


Uncovering Saiyaman

by Josenka



Series: Dragon Ball Dysfunctional Domesticity [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bad Puns, Fake Lyrics, Gen, Hotzilla, Hungry Child, Man Cleavage, Martial Arts, Mild Language, Parental Advice, Saiyan Culture, Sexual Tension, Teenage Stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josenka/pseuds/Josenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Videl can and will uncover the secrets of Gohan, the Great Saiyaman. Now only if his man cleavage was not so distracting...</p><p>
  <i>Energy--her energy!--glittered between her hands, a softball-sized cocoon of kinetic potential. Videl could spin it like a basketball, pitch it like a baseball and spike it like a volleyball. She struggled with juggling, after succeeding to toss skeeballs through rings of energy. His energy. At one point he had made them invisible, frustrating her efforts, so she had chucked four lambent orbs at his head; all had hit him, sputtering out as they splattered against his smoldering man cleavage, but he was unhurt. How he had laughed! And now he laughed at her juggling.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncovering Saiyaman

**Author's Note:**

> The Dragon Ball Universe is huge. Enormous. Gargantuan. It has its own Wiki, too! Even with that Wiki's help, nothing here's ever going to be certified 100% Canon™ because interpretation, speculation and invention. And omission of Dragon Ball GT and Super et al. Really it's all silly fun, this tale taking place during DBZ Episode 207, "Videl Take Flight", being, mere filler to fill in, y'know, filler.

** ONE **

His entry in the student directory was imprinted into her memory: _Son, Gohan. Year 10. 58N, 018, 439 East District (Mount Paozu)._ If he was not there, perhaps busy performing the preposterous poses of Saiyaman, she would wait. And wait. _Or I'll issue a worldwide APB on him._ And when he returned, then he would illuminate her on the mysterious deets of self-propelled flight. In the event he did not comply, Videl Herculina Satan would alert Sharpner, SatanTV™ and _The Satan City Super Times,_ by text and by email, about his alterego.

But Gohan would not slight her in the least. Lines of naivety lined his face when he uttered absurdities between awkward laughs; she knew chronic liars well, being around her father and his insidious flatterers. Yet, somehow, his childish lies were hysterical. And it was totes adorbs how he thought his superhero poses were intimidating! _Great Saiyadork indeed._ Maybe they were a signature of his martial arts school, one she was unfamiliar with. _But not for long._

Videl had unethically employed law enforcement resources to ascertain more about Gohan. All it had obtained her was his birth registration and student ID photo (in which he looked goofy). And placements in district and national exams, where he always ranked first, barring the chaotic year of the Cell Games. Information on his parents, Son Goku and Gyu Chi-Chi, had been sparse, too, save where martial arts were concerned; both had participated in the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, won by Goku over some green guy. _And I keep forgetting to watch vids of it._

But she would know more soon. _Very soon._ Her fist curled tighter around her helicapsule as she approached the helipad, smoldering with impatience to descry the truth of Son Gohan. She activated the capsule and in a _“PWOOOOF!”_ the garish Satan Gold Medal Gold™ copter materialized.

 _“VIDEL!”_ Dad bellowed from the story below. _“YOU BETTER NOT BE SNEAKING OFF ON A DATE!”_ Blue eyes rolled like sagebrush in a sandstorm. Dad devoted too much time to monitoring her comings and goings on the helipad lately. And now he stormed onto the scene, clad in sequined cape and gilded champion belt. “Where’s my little girl going?”

She deployed the best excuse to placate him: “To train.”

“That’s my girl!” he laughed. “And beat up that--that--that Saiyaman if he harasses you again. You can’t trust him, wearing a mask like that. Like a coward.” She climbed into her copter, sensing another Gold Fighter diatribe. “And--and he’s using cheap tricks like those--those fighters. The gold-haired fighters. Let me tell you--”

“Bye, Daddy!” she shouted as the blades whirled into action. “I’ll beat up any boys who ask me out!”

 _“THAT’S MY GIRL!”_ he roared as the copter heaved her heavenward. Perhaps she would have no need of this flying contraption by tonight.

* * *

**TWO**

Ten minutes remained of her half hour voyage. Ten minutes until his enigmatic mist of mystery cracked like nuts in her claws. Ten minutes-- _now nine!_ \--until the caterwaul of curiosity, shrill and squawky, ceased to ask about him-- _Who is he? What is he? How is--_

_BLING-BLING-BRRRRING!_

Damn it! She had neglected to silence her mobile. Well, whatever it was, it better not be an insignificant Satan City emergency. “Videl here.”

“Hey Videl, it’s me, Sharpner.”

 _How’d he get my number this time?_ “Uh, hey there.”

“Your dad said you’re training.” Damn it! Dad was nudging and winking her in the direction of ass-kissing Sharpner again; he had shitty taste in boyfriends for her and girlfriends for himself. “But I didn’t see you at the Elite Satan Sweat Center™.”

“Actually, uh, I--I went to train with a, uh, a master of, um, drunken master arts near, um, Mount Paozu.”

“Hey, isn’t that near where Gohan lives?”

“Is it?” she hiccuped. “He really lives way, way out there?”

“It’s why he’s so dorky,” Sharpner sneered. “Well, I’ll talk to you again soon.”

If only soon was like never.

* * *

**THREE**

At 58N, 018, 439 East District, she was greeted by a bun-headed, onyx-eyed woman. The woman shouted at her as if she was a door-to-door pariah who pimped kitschy Mr. Satan Luxe Stuff™ knockoffs (which Dad collected). Videl revealed she was here for Gohan. The woman worsened her assumptions, going cray cray as Dad about certain fighters.  _Like I’d date that dweeb Gohan!_ A discourse on mores and manners began--

“Hi, Mom!” Gohan cheerfully called. “We’re back!” Her ears pivoted toward his pleasant voice.

And, hither, he ran her way, stalked by a black-haired shadow in pumpkin glow orange (or Satan Atomic Tangerine™). “Hey Mom!” the shadow shouted, more chipper than the weathercaster on "Good Morning Satan!". “I got to throw rocks at Gohan!”

Face bedecked by intentional scowl, it swiveled toward Gohan. Eyes disconnected from brain. _Damn, he’s a hotzilla!_ His ultramarine gi revealed a lavish amount of man cleavage, a true plentitude or pecs. Smoking. Screaming. Sexylicious! He looked bulkier and hulkier, too, than when clad in school or superhero clothes.

Eyes closed so she could concentrate. But how could she? _Hot damn!_ That man cleavage, it blazed with retinal memory while elevated thoughts struggled. A typhoon struggle, a ghastly foreshadowing of Ragnarok. She must regroup, must not lose her upper hand. But him. _A hot-fucking-zilla!_ It was overwhelming. Her flesh tingled and tangled. And there was a throb between her legs. _Hell no!_ There was--

“Wow, hi!” his cheerfulness roused her. “How’d you find my address?”

The answer was to shout at his social ineptitude in hopes it obliterated certain, um, sensations that would make it even more awks here.

* * *

**FOUR**

Goten departed to play, whatever that high-on-happiness oddbod did for fun. _Blow up frogs and worms?_ Well, whatever, the Son sons were strange. Stranger than the Gold Fighter in urban legend. Videl would discover more about them later. _Much, much more!_  Now it was time to for a lecture from pec-endowed Professor Gohan who sat lotus-like in the grass across from her.

“I’ll do it slowly,” he smiled. “That way you can watch me.” And watch she would! “The first thing you have to do--”

_“Do you heart the boy?/So sorry, but he’s mine, my new joy/And my fave new toy/Oh my, oh my, hotzilla loveboy!”_

Damn it, why did those lame, annoying lyrics have to slug her brains now? Sure, Gohan was yapping about ki theory, something she had studied in martial arts history, but--but--but, shit, that man cleavage! Golden light radiated from his glorious chest. She leaned closer. And closer. Down into his gi she peeped, beholding abs incandescent.

“There, see?”

Oh, yes, indeed, she saw. She saw Gohan radiant, resplendent, veins aglow like fireflies. _Like the Gold Fighter!?_ Bodily brilliance fizzled. But luminous energy remained, collected in a sphere between large, calloused hands. She wondered what they felt like, these--these orbs, like--like were they phosphorescent?

* * *

**FIVE**

Energy-- _her energy!_ \--glittered between her hands, a softball-sized cocoon of kinetic potential. Videl could spin it like a basketball, pitch it like a baseball and spike it like a volleyball. She struggled with juggling, after succeeding to toss skeeballs through rings of energy. _His energy._ At one point he had made them invisible, frustrating her efforts, so she had chucked four lambent orbs at his head; all had hit him, sputtering out as they splattered against his smoldering man cleavage, but he was unhurt. How he had laughed! And now he laughed at her juggling.

_BLING-BLING-BRRRRING!_

Spheres crashed to the earth, one hitting her left foot. “OWWWW!” Her toes hurt, like a twelve pound bowling ball had thumped them. “Owwww, damn it!” She hopped around on her unafflicted foot.

_BLING-BLING-BRRRRING!_

“Oww, not now!” she growled, grabbing her mobile to heed the neverending siren calls of Satan City. “Videl here.”

“Hey Videl.” Shit, not him again! “It’s me, Sharpner.”

“Oww, hi there.”

Thirty seconds of silence followed. “Videl, are you okay?”

“Oh, me? I’m fine and dandy.” She offered him a few fake titters. “Just dropped something on my toes. It’s nothing Satan’s daughter can’t handle.”

“But of course!” he brayed. “I forgot to tell you, I have two tickets for tomorrow’s Cutie and the Crawfish concert.”

 _Then there’d be too many mentions of hotzilla loveboys._ “Sorry, I’ll be, uh, training all day tomorrow, um, communing with nature and stuff.”

“Then maybe you should go to the beach with me.”

“Later, Sharpner.” She disconnected from his wretched wooing. _I need a restraining order against him._ But for now, now her mobile would be dead and silent as Cell. “So, now,” she grinned at Gold--Gohan, “where were we?”

“Did you crush any toes?”

“Nothing’s broken,” she laughed, sheathing her pestering mobile. “I’ve dropped heavier weights on my toes.” _And some on Dad’s thick skull, too._

* * *

**SIX**

The sun throbbed in the sky and sweat trickled down her neck. Energy harvesting had become easier, but lightheadedness was beginning to distress her. Almost as much as man cleavage. _I’d be a drooling fool if he was shirtless._ Gohan encouraged her from time to time, never lapsing in cheerfulness if frustration thrashed him.

She was resting in shade when Goten resurfaced, smudged by dirt and smeared by muck. “Gohan.” Whininess tainted his tone. “Gohan, I’m hungry.” And his stomach roared, as if on cue, like a cartoon lion.

“Geez, already?” Gohan rolled his eyes. “Nimbus can--you--you can run home and get one.”

“It’d be faster if you flew and got one for me.”

“Well, I’m a little hungry too, so--”

“Thanks!” Happiness was salvaged for Goten. “You’re the bestest bro ever!” He hopped and skipped around his brother, bouncing higher than any _normal_ human child. 

“So, uh, Videl,” Gohan eyeballed her, “is it okay if I leave you with Goten for a spell?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” Sustenance would surely revitalize her. “Go ahead,” she grinned. “Just remember: I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t you worry.” He rose, assuming a clichéd series of lame superhero poses. “Saiyaman will save all our stomachs!” He leapt into the firmament, zipping and zooming like a hot, uh, heat-seeking missile.

Her eyes remained latched to the burnished room. _My oh my/He’s so fly he can fly/Hotzilla_ _Saiyaguy._ She definitely had no future writing lyrics. _Better bad songs about him instead of Dad._ But in the present, it was time, an opportune time to collect information from the adorbs oddbod who had loose lips, He sprawled on the grass, gazing up at sluggish clouds while his stomach thundered.

“All right, Goten,” she deployed her police voice, “tell me all about your brother.”

“Well, he’s older and stronger than me.”

 _Like obviously._ “So did your mother make his Saiyaman costume?”

“No, that’d be Auntie Bulma,” he replied. “She’s my bestie’s mom. She invents stuff for Capsule Corp.” That could explain his swift switch from student to superdork to student.

“What does your mom do for a living?”

“She cooks a lot and always tells Gohan to study.”

“I mean does she work.”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to.” He yawned. “Her dad’s the Ox King. He’s always lived in Frypan Castle on Fire Mountain.” Well, no wonder their mother had outdated mores, likely originating in a backwater like that.  “He’s strong, too, but Gohan’s-- _FOOD!!!”_

But--but--but how the fuck had Gohan returned already? _Ah, shit, he’s been concealing his true speed from me!_ She glared at him. At them. Goten ran toward his hotter, um, older brother who toted a picnic hamper (complete with cooler and hot plate compartments) large enough for her to hide inside. Goten began to gorge on raisin and chocolate rice cakes like a restaurant garbage thrasher.

“Slow it down,” Gohan scolded through clenched teeth. “Goten, remember I told--”

 _“BUT I’M HUNGRY!!!”_ Crumbs bolted and blitzed from the young, gluttonous maw, spewing like shrapnel which almost pelted Videl standing three meters away. “And you haven't trained me liked you promised!”

“I’ll do it after dinner.”

_“I. WANT. TO. FLY. NOW!!!”_

“Geez, calm down,” Gohan almost lost his composure. “How--how about you sleep in my room tonight.”

“Mondo cool!” The not-so-adorable oddity resumed gobbling rice cakes by the dozens. Gohan joined his brother, but imbibed carbolicious fare at a more measured pace. “Ah, Mom sent radishes again.”

“Would you prefer carrots?”

"Nah, even your cooking's better."

The food was fetching (but not as much as man cleavage), but Videl chose to cool down first. From the cooler she pilfered a two liter Capwater bottle, one unblemished by the label for Satanade™. She set it aside after a few generous swigs. Out of her t-shirt she slithered and poured water bottle remnants over her head. "I didn't know I'd get so hungry harvesting ki."

It sounded like the orchestra of mastication had ceased. She looked at the silenced Son brothers. Goten was studiously licking a gargantuan lollipop as large as his head. And Gohan had purple powerade dribbling from his mouth, totally agog as if she was topless with a tank top on. _He’s Droolzilla now!_ More had spilled on his shirt, creating blackish blotches on his ultramarine gi.

“Uh, Videl?”

She concealed her smirk. “Yes?”

“Um, do you mind if I take off my shirt?”

 _What a dork, asking something dumb like that!_ “So long as my dad’s not tattooed anywhere.”

"I can't believe Sharpner has one on his back," he chuckled. “My mother would go ballistic if I got a tattoo.”

And so, off his shirt came. What lurked beneath was incredible-- _totes amazeballs!_ \--paralleling the muscled marveled of his pecs and biceps. The definition was incredulous, as if he had less than one percent body fat. _Hotzilla Saiyaman._ His workout regiment must be as merciless as North City Winters, putting brawn-brained bros to shame. So when did he have time to study? Penzel Sharpner could slack at university-esque Orange Star High because he was on the top-ranked boxing and baseball teams, exempting him from certain academic standards.

“Uh, Videl?”

It took her several seconds to sever her eyes from his abs in favor of his face. “Yes, what is it?”

His onyx eyes were earnest. “Dinner’ll be ready at my house in like two-and-a-half hours.” Was his face flushing? “You’re--you’re welcome to come. And--and afterward, then we can try flying.”

She scowled, “What about your mother?”

“Oh, she’ll be chill by then; she's just got a short fuse, thanks to Dad.”

 _This'll make Sharpner shit his gym shorts._ “I’ll come.”

Oh, yes, she would come. She would uncover more secrets of Saiyaman. But what had been uncovered thus far, well, was well worth the weight in training torture she would accumulate by the time of the World Tournament.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This fanfic is for fun, not profit. Unless The author gets ahold of seven Dragon Balls. Then it's a #1 Bestseller Short Story for five years.


End file.
